


Nice Girl Like You

by Poemsingreenink



Category: Agent Carter - Fandom, Captain America
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-18 02:27:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4689032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poemsingreenink/pseuds/Poemsingreenink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maria Hill hates time travel, but not Peggy Carter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Time Travel

Maria Hill, as a general rule, hated time travel. It was messy. The rules were finicky and convoluted. The ramifications were cloudy, and swung from benign to volatile at the quirk of an eyebrow. The whole idea of time travel actually gave her a headache, and the last thing Maria needed was (another) headache. 

She was, however, only human and if there was one thing humans loved it was exceptions to rules, general or otherwise. The last few hours had taught Maria that her exception to time travel was wrapped in the sight of Peggy Carter slowly stirring a margarita.

There were five empty glasses scattered across the table. Most of them sported the remnants of dark red lipstick, and one was dangerously close to Peggy's elbow. A few of her dark curls were escaping their pins and an unhelpful part of Maria's brain was concocting scenarios where she invited Peggy Carter, founder of S.H.I.E.L.D, Howling Commando and war hero back to her place where she could help unpin the rest of her hair, run her fingers through the waves and undo the knots. 

Peggy pressed the pad of her thumb against the dusting of sugar that circled the rim of the glass, and then licked it off. Maria wondered if she was being punished for something.

“I'm pleased that the drinks of the future are good,” Peggy said, her words slow and her accent just a bit less crisp than when Maria had found her. She glanced around the bar Maria had dragged her into, back when Maria's plan had been to regroup and figure out their next step. 

“Though I'm not entirely sure if I enjoy the décor,” Peggy waved her hand at the palm trees, leis and colorful Hawaiian flowers that covered the walls. “It all reminds me a bit too much of something Howard would enjoy.”

Howard. Right. Howard Stark. Tony's father Howard. Who Peggy Carter had seen the day before because for her it was 1946, and Maria was dealing with time travel. 

“There are other bars,” Maria answered, her own words slip-sliding out of her mouth. “We could go somewhere else.”

She should call Fury. Or Natasha. Or someone, but S.H.I.E.L.D was HYDRA and HYDRA was S.H.I.E.L.D, and that had left her resources a little low and her ability to trust severely scarred. 

She should under no circumstances call Steve who would break the speed-limit, the walls, the sound barrier in his effort to get to them, but probably drag any number of dangers behind him.

Instead she considered ordering bacon-wrapped jalapeño poppers. The menu made them sound delicious.


	2. Chapter 2

It started to drizzle right around the time Maria took a hairpin curve so quickly that she almost dumped the two of them off the bike. The drops were few and far between, but they stung her cheeks, forehead and nose, which was to be expected when you rode a motorcycle through New York on a rainy day without a helmet.

“WHERE IS YOUR GUN!?” Peggy shouted over the wind, directly into her ear.

Steve was going to get on her case for that. Somehow he would find out she'd jumped on the back of a stolen Harley Davidson, sans helmet, like one of those golden retrievers who could sense tornadoes or cancer or something, and she'd get that 'I'm not mad I'm just disappointed in you' look. Again. 

“AGENT HILL! YOUR GUN!”

A hand lifted her shirt and palmed the skin of her back. Maria stiffened because mother of god Peggy Carter was feeling her up. She'd had this dream before. Though if she were being fair, most of the members of S.H.I.E.L.D (gay, straight,bi, queer or otherwise) had had this dream before. Peggy Carter might not have been the household name that Steve (loudly, often, once with a PowerPoint presentation) declared she should be, but among the recruits of S.H.I.E.L.D Peggy might as well have been Athena, Xena, and Mother Teresa all in one. It did things to you. 

The hand disappeared followed by a series of very familiar bangs that made Maria's ears ache. She wove around a minivan and three yellow taxis praying that Peggy Carter was as good a shot as her record promised. 

“ON YOUR LEFT!” Peggy shouted.

Another motorcyclist zipped in-between a VW Bug and a convertible to ride shoulder to shoulder with them. They held a led pipe in one hand, and when they got close enough to take a swing Maria slammed her booted foot between the rider's ribs. It set her balance off, but sent the other rider tumbling into traffic. Maria didn't see the rest, but heard the cacophony of screeching wheels and blaring horns they left behind. 

She cursed the early morning streets congested with traffic and pedestrians. New York was awful for high-speed chases. Now Chicago! That was a city build for speed. A pre-planned street grid, bridges that rose and _alleyways_! Despite popular belief New York didn’t have all that many alleyways you could duck down at a moment's notice. At least she was sober. It was nice of HYDRA or whoever this was to wait until she'd sobered up to attack them.

A gust of wind blew a scattering of painful raindrops into her face, and the dark clouds rolling across the sky flickered; stuffed full of lightening. They needed to get off the road before the storm really hit. The next turn would lead to a straightaway that could get them to an exit, which led to the highway, which eventually moved to the vast open east coast roads. 

There were places outside of the city where she could dump the stolen motorcycle, and safe-houses she still trusted. Once they weren't running for their lives they could actually strategize. Maybe over brunch. 

Something that sounded suspiciously like a grenade exploded behind them. 

If nothing else they'd need to buy Peggy some less conspicuous clothes. Maybe pants. Did she wear pants? Were pants a thing in 1945? She took the upcoming turn a little gentler than she'd taken the last one, and made a mental note to ask.


End file.
